White Christmas
by Writersblock42
Summary: Vegeta knows he screwed up. Royally. Astronomically. But he is determined to fix things, even if it takes him a lifetime. Unfortunately, it's looking more and more like he's going to need longer than a lifetime to fix what he broke. Or maybe what he needs is a Christmas miracle… of his own making of course!


**A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling.**

* * *

Breakfast was a noisy affair in the Brief's household. The clinking of cutlery, the sloppy sounds of eating (particularly from his Saiyan son who had yet to learn any manners), and several inane conversations that took place at once, with each person talking over the top of the other.

Vegeta had learnt to tune it out.

In the beginning, when he was just an alien houseguest and they were merely those inferior humans he had to put up with, he'd only dragged himself along to breakfast because it involved food. Lately though, Vegeta found he didn't _mind_ the time spent with the Briefs. He even found himself actively listening to what they were saying - not that he'd even deign to join in.

Right now, Trunks was blathering away to Dr Brief about a sports competition at school. He was going to "wipe the floor of his opponents" which Vegeta could only assume he meant to defeat them. Of course the boy would, he expected nothing less of his son. Dr Brief's was responding to Trunks, but seemed to think the boy was talking about a science competition that involved experimenting with cleaning products - something Trunks would have had no interest in, much to Bulma's disappointment.

Meanwhile, Bulma and her mother were discussing some kind of Capsule Corp event. The kind Vegeta usually managed to avoid at all costs.

"I'm just not going to enjoy it, Ma." Bulma threw her hand, fork and all, into the air. A piece of sausage went flying off and Vegeta smothered a smirk as Scratch tumbled across the room towards it. "It's going to be a bunch of men judging me, thinking I only got to where I am because of my father."

"Now, dear," Mrs Brief chided softly, topping up Bulma's plate with another sausage. "Thirty-five percent of the board are women. And you've been practically running the company for years. This night is important, not just for them to see and accept you as CEO, but for you as well."

It was a coronation ceremony, Vegeta realised with a start, jerking his attention away from the cat. She was being crowned queen of Capsule Corp. How had he not known this was happening? She normally would have talked his ear off non-stop about it. He would have pretended not to listen, but that wouldn't have put her off. Of course, that was before...

Bulma snorted rudely and stabbed a hash brown like she was spearing an enemy in the jugular. "I didn't say I wouldn't go. I'm just not going to enjoy it."

Her gaze met Vegeta's for a split second, but she looked away hurriedly. That was the third time she'd done that this morning. A new record. She'd barely acknowledged his existence in months. If it didn't have anything to do with Trunks she wasn't interested in communicating with him.

He could hardly blame her.

"I'd much rather hole up somewhere snowy and enjoy a white Christmas this year." Bulma turned her concentration back towards her mother. "It rarely snows in West City. I used to love it when we'd go up to that cabin in the northern mountains." She sighed wistfully, prodding her food around her plate.

Vegeta frowned to himself. What was the correlation between this human holiday and snow? Everywhere shop windows put up paper snowflakes and fake trees were adorned with even faker white frosting that smelt of that stuff Bulma put on her fingernails.

He couldn't stand snow, personally. The number of times he'd been stranded on a freezing planet with no appropriate outerwear had solidified that dislike. Vegetasai had been warm, even desert-like in a large part of the planet. Hot, humid climates suited him.

"You'll come, won't you Vegeta?"

Vegeta glanced up from his meal, shocked to be addressed. Mrs Brief stated expectantly at him and he realised he'd tuned out the rest of their conversation. Bulma's gaze remained on her plate, her jaw clenched as if she wanted to say something but was holding back in front of the rest of the family.

"To the Capsule Corp Christmas Ball next week." The blonde woman answered his unspoken question. She grinned and flashed him a wink. "It was certainly eventful the last time you came."

Vegeta felt his cheeks flush and he shrugged noncommittally and stared back at his food. The last time he'd been to the annual ball had been before Trunks, before the androids…

Before he'd destroyed the only meaningful relationship he'd ever had.

* * *

Bulma stared at herself in her full-length mirror. No amount of makeup was going to hide those dark circles around her eyes. Stress, lack of sleep, and a certain _someone_ hadn't helped over these last few months. Hopefully, the board would put it down to her taking her new role seriously.

She scoffed to herself. As if.

With a deep sigh, Bulma lay her dress for tonight out on the bed. It was an off the shoulder gown with a full skirt. Silver sequins filled the top, fading out into black halfway down the skirt, creating an ombré effect. It was quite a departure from her usual slinky dresses but she'd fallen in love with it the moment she saw it.

She carefully stepped into it - the last thing she wanted was to wrinkle it - and pulled it up before twisting her arm to pull up the zip. She got halfway before it stuck. Cursing, she wriggled and tried to get it loose.

"Son of a-"

"Do you require assistance?"

Bulma shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, recognising that deep, raspy voice instantly. Damnit, she hadn't shut her bedroom door.

"I don't need _your_ help," she snapped, opening her eyes and glaring at him.

His expression faulted for only a moment. No one else but her would have noticed. Guilt flooded through her. _Kami_, she'd been treating him like crap for months even though he'd been nothing but perfect since.

He'd been training with Trunks, even helping him with his homework. He hadn't missed a meal, hadn't left the house for longer than a few hours, hadn't shown any sign of taking a spaceship and disappearing into space. Even the gods had forgiven him, allowing him to come back from death with a dragon's wish.

And yet, she still couldn't bring herself to trust that he wouldn't make the same choice again. Wouldn't just disappear. Wouldn't decide that he was better off without them. After all, he'd made that decision once. What was to stop him making it again?

Still, that look - the one that reminded her of a kicked puppy - made her pause.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "If you could do up my zip I would... appreciate it."

Vegeta hesitated before crossing the threshold. It was the first time he'd been in her bedroom since she'd slammed the door in his face months ago.

_Their_ bedroom. It had been their bedroom once.

Vegeta came up behind her so she could look at herself in the mirror. He fumbled with the zip, inching it up slowly.

"Don't break it," she warned, although she tried to keep the chill out of her voice for once.

Vegeta didn't reply, but she could see his brow furrow in his reflection. After struggling for a moment he placed one hand at the top of the gown, pulling the material together to help keep the zip tight. His hand brushed her neck and Bulma shivered involuntarily.

Why did she have this reaction to him? It had been months and he hadn't just broken her heart. He'd shattered it. All she wanted was to hate him. It would be so much easier.

Finally, the zip made it to the top. Vegeta didn't leave straight away though. He stood behind her, mere inches away, his presence making her want to sink back into him as she might have done in the past.

"You look…" He swallowed hard behind her, his gaze full of something she didn't recognise as his two major emotions of hate or lust. "You look like a queen."

With that, he left, and the room suddenly felt empty. It was with a sense of disappointment that she finally noticed he hadn't been wearing a suit.

Perhaps he'd decided not to come to the ball tonight. After all, she'd given him no indication that she wanted him to.

But, damn it, she did.

* * *

The humans swarmed the back garden of Capsule Corp like flies to a corpse. Large, cream marquees covered in twinkling lights had been erected, lined with tall columns of gas heaters to warm those who thought West City's mild winter cold. At one end of the marquee was a stage with a five-person band blasting out infernal Christmas songs that Vegeta knew would get stuck in his head for the next few days.

He leaned his back against the bar to the side of the band and tugged at his tie, wishing he was anywhere but there, while at the same time knowing he really didn't want to be anywhere else if it meant being without _her_. It was a pity it had taken being possessed by an insane wizard to come to _that_ uncomfortable realisation.

His wife moved gracefully amongst the guests, appearing to float in that shimmering dress. It was pure torture, watching her and knowing he could have been with her, been the willing victim of one of her smiles if only he hadn't been such a fucking idiot. Now he was stuck on the outskirts of her life. A place he certainly deserved to be, but not where he wanted to remain if he could help it.

Yamcha, who was always one to attend these functions for the free food, approached, throwing Vegeta an easy smile. Odd how he of all people had forgiven his transgression instantly but Vegeta's own wife had not.

"Hey man." Yamcha looked Vegeta up and down. "You need a drink."

"I need an entire keg," Vegeta replied.

Yamcha's laugh burst out of him, a high sound of surprise. "I didn't know you knew what a keg was."

Vegeta gave a shrug. "A television show about the American spring break came on and I could not find the remote."

Yamcha shook his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "I don't think there is any beer at this hoity-toity event." He motioned to the bartender. "Two scotch on the rocks."

Vegeta frowned and accepted the drink, mildly perturbed that the weakling knew his favourite drink. They both stood at the bar in silence, watching the crowd swarm and move around Bulma. As if she were the light and they the moths.

"I hate to state the obvious…" Yamcha finally said.

"Then don't."

"You are losing her, man."

Vegeta sucked in a sharp breath but didn't reply. What could he say? It was true after all.

Yamcha must have taken his silence as permission to continue. "Don't make my mistake and let her slip away. You need to do... something."

Vegeta tossed back the rest of his drink and signalled to the bartender for another. "Something…" he repeated. "Like what?"

"I don't know." Yamcha shrugged and wrinkled his nose. "Something… big."

Bulma's slow trek through the garden had brought her closer to the bar. Vegeta felt his chest constrict as her gaze washed over him and away again. As if he wasn't even there.

"I need a fucking miracle, that's what," Vegeta muttered before drinking the entirety of his recently filled glass. It burned as it went down but he barely felt the effects. For the first time, he cursed his Saiyan genes.

* * *

If Bulma had to keep her fake smile plastered on her face much longer she was going to scream. What she wanted - what she truly wanted - was to get rip-roaring drunk and forget the entire night. Hell, she'd like to forget the last few months.

She was going to have to get up in front of everyone and speak soon. Her father would introduce her as the new CEO and she'd say… something. She'd memorised the entire speech but right now she couldn't remember a word.

He'd come.

She'd sensed him the moment he'd come outside. The air had shifted, crackled, become more alive. She felt more alive when he was near and, under his gaze, she felt on fire with it.

She found herself sweeping the area, looking for him, but when she finally spotted him, she didn't let her gaze settle. If she did she knew she wouldn't be able to resist going to him.

Over the last few months she'd purposely avoided Vegeta to punish him. Lately, she'd begun to wonder if the person she was really punishing was herself.

If she hadn't been so clingy. If she'd made him happy. If she'd been enough... Maybe he wouldn't have let himself be possessed. Maybe he wouldn't have died.

Maybe he wouldn't have left her.

* * *

Something big. Something _huge_. What the hell was he supposed to do?

The brass band started playing a slow song, with the tall singer, a man dressed all in gold, started crooning about dreaming of a white Christmas. What was with these humans and damn snow? He'd take a hot summer's day every time. Snow was cold and wet and…

Something big. Something so big, she couldn't ignore it. Vegeta grinned as an idea formed. He'd need help though. Yamcha had disappeared to flirt with a brunette on the dance floor. That left…

His gaze fell on his son.

The only person who looked more uncomfortable at this party than Vegeta was Trunks. The boy had been forced into a suit and like him, the tie had been loosened and the shirt crumpled. He was currently surrounded by several women who were cooing over him and pinching his cheeks. When Trunks' desperate gaze met his, Vegeta decided to rescue him and recruit him into his plan.

His mere approach sent the women scattering. One glance at his glower usually had the strongest humans running for home and these ladies were no exception.

"Thanks, Papa." Trunks grinned up at him. "I thought I'd never escape."

"You could have used super-speed and disappeared."

Trunks snorted and grabbed a tray of proceeded to snatch an entire tray of hors d'oeuvres off a waiter and began shovelling the contents in his mouth. "Them Mama would have killed me for exposing my powers." He shuddered dramatically. "No thanks."

Vegeta swiped the tray away from Trunks and placed back in the hands of another waiter who scurried away. "Quit mucking around, boy. I need your help."

"With what?"

"Something." Vegeta motioned to the other side of the tent where the band wasn't so deafening.

"Something? Something what?" Trunks asked, but stopped his questioning as he struggled to keep up with Vegeta.

Vegeta was mostly intent on getting to the other side of the tent and finding a quiet spot in the garden, away from the humans. Unfortunately, his sensitive hearing picked up his name. And it wasn't being uttered by anyone he knew.

"I think he's a stand-in," a bored sounding woman claimed as Vegeta grabbed Trunks and scooted behind a large potted plant to avoid detection. "A piece of eye candy to fool the rest of us into thinking she's given up her wild lifestyle."

"Eye candy?" The man next to her laughed. "That Vegeta is terrifying! But I think you are right. They haven't been seen together all night. I bet they aren't even married. The son probably isn't even his!"

At that Trunks bristled, and Vegeta grabbed the back of his shirt to avoid the boy doing something stupid. "Reconnaissance only," he hissed in way of explanation. "Unless you want to face your mother's wrath?"

Trunks settled immediately, but the furious expression didn't leave his face.

"I can't believe Dr Brief thinks she is fit to run the company." A man chimed in this time, his voice coming out in low chuckles as if his words were something to laugh at. "An unmarried woman like her has no place running Capsule Corp."

Vegeta nearly ignored his own advice and burst through the potted plant, but another voice stopped them.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what a person's marital status has to do with running a company." Mrs Brief said. "But I'm just a woman. Perhaps one of you can explain it to me?" She followed that with a tittering laugh, and through the plant's leaves Vegeta could just make out her wide, innocent smile.

"Well, uh… you see..." the deep-voiced man spluttered. "It's just not done."

"What isn't done?" Mrs Brief batted her eyelashes.

"Running a company while unmarried," the other man tried to explain.

Mrs Brief frowned and tapped her chin with a long, painted fingernail. "So you are saying that my husband didn't run Capsule Corp properly until he married me?" She threw her head back and treated them to a tinkling laugh "You are too kind my dears. I'm afraid I didn't have much to do with the major decisions." She patted both the men on their shoulders. "Except for the ones involving the board's annual salary increases of course."

With that, she gave them a final laugh and fluttered away through the crowd, leaving the three board members speechless.

"Shouldn't you have said something?" Trunks hissed. "You and Mama _are_ married."

Vegeta shook his head. "Your Nana had it well under control. Never tread on another fighter's battle, boy."

"But Nana isn't a fighter," Trunks said as they began to weave through the crowd again.

Vegeta smirked at Trunks. "Not all battles involve fists."

Once they made it to the edge of the marquee, Vegeta kept going, dragging Trunks past the rose bushes to a blissfully uninhabited part of the garden.

"Well?" Trunks put his hand on his hips. "What do you need help with?"

Vegeta took a moment to clarify his idea in his head before explaining it to Trunks. "Do you think it will work?" he asked.

Trunks frowned and looked up at the sky. "Technically, yes. We'll need to be accurate, but it is totally possible." His gaze shifted to Vegeta and his mouth spread into his boyish smile. "It's actually a good idea."

"Don't sound so surprised." Vegeta scowled.

Trunks shrugged. "Your usual tactic of waiting for things to blow over clearly hasn't been working. At this point, you should be willing to try anything."

Vegeta winced. Clearly, the boy had noticed there was something wrong between his parents, even if he hadn't said anything until now.

"But this," Trunks continued. "This, she is going to love."

* * *

Bulma stood on the small wooden stage, blinded by fairy lights and the gazes of hundreds of Capsule Corp employees. Each one she'd greeted throughout the night had smiled and been gracious enough, but she'd heard the whispers, seen the smirks...

"_She only got the job because of Daddy."_

"_That girl has always been a party animal. Dr Brief must be mad putting her in charge."_

"_That supposed husband of hers hasn't been seen near her all night. He's probably a paid actor."_

All ridiculous claims, and all ones straight out of the tabloids. Normally Bulma didn't care what people thought of her, but this was different. She _needed_ her company's support to succeed.

For once she'd have to take a leaf out of Vegeta's book. He was always harping on at Trunks about how he should never let his opponent know he was afraid. How important it was to remain confident, at least externally, because if you didn't you'd end up eaten alive.

Bulma suspected Vegeta was being quite literal when he'd said that. Once, when they were actually talking to one another, he'd revealed a little of his life before Earth. The threat of being eaten sounded like a real possibility.

Still, until now Bulma had never considered how all of Vegeta's training advice could come in handy in the business world.

So as she looked out at the faces, she put on her brightest smile and began to speak.

* * *

She looked fearless up there. The golden lights bounced off her dress creating an illusion of her being on fire as she shimmered with every slight movement. When she spoke, her voice rang true, exuding a confidence Vegeta knew she didn't feel. Bulma hated public speaking, and the pressure she was under tonight couldn't have helped, but no one else in the room would have known.

She spoke of continuing a legacy and of family, no doubt trying to convince the room that very little would change at Capsule Corp. Of course it wouldn't. She'd been running the company in all but name since a year or so after the androids.

Bulma's gaze moved around the crowd and at first Vegeta thought she was making eye contact with as many people as possible, but he soon recognised the action as searching for something. Or someone.

Finally, her gaze landed on him. For the first time in months, she didn't look away.

* * *

Halfway through her speech, she nearly stumbled. Speaking in public made her palms sweat and her knees shake, and she spent so much time focusing on not letting those nervous tells show that it made remembering what she had to say all the more difficult. She found herself searching the crowd for the one person who gave her strength. After all, he had plenty of strength to give.

She found him in the centre of the audience. Dressed in a black tailored suit and crisp white shirt, she wasn't surprised to note that his tie had been loosened to the point of hanging off. She was surprised when she didn't look away from him.

Bulma found herself transfixed by his stare. She couldn't tell what he was thinking - he had the world's best poker face - but seeing him standing in a place he would have hated, surrounded by her friends and enemies alike, she felt something other than anger for the first time in a while.

"Before we enjoy the rest of the night, I wanted to say a special thank you to the families of everyone here today," Bulma said, changing the end of her speech on the fly. Instead of stumbling over her words as usually happened if she spoke unprepared, they flowed out as if she spoke them a hundred times before. "Without their support and encouragement, this year would not have been as successful as it was. So thank you, families, for putting up with the late nights, for shouldering our stress, and for all the little things."

Bulma smiled - a real one as opposed to the fake one she'd been wearing all night. "Because it is all those little things that matter. Things like sneaking food into my lab when I've forgotten to eat dinner. Or listening to me rant on even when you don't understand a word I've said. Or…" Her voice caught at the crack in Vegeta's expression. "Or not letting your wife's stubbornness drive you away."

The moment she was off the stage, Bulma started looking for her husband. She was swarmed by the party's guests though, and no matter where she looked, she couldn't find him. Had he not realised that those words were for him? Or worse… did he not care?

A cool breeze swept through the marquee, and she shivered. Even with the heaters and the hundreds of people, it was starting to get cold. And then she saw him, back by the stage, in front of the band. He didn't move as she excused herself as politely as she could, then made her way to him.

She stopped in front of Vegeta and unexpectedly found herself without words.

The band began to play a slow, croony version of _White Christmas_. A song she was sure they'd already played.

Vegeta held out his hand.

Bulma hesitated, knowing that there would be no turning back after this. Aware of everyone's eyes on her, she placed her palm in his.

She'd thought he was inviting her to dance but instead he lead her to the side of the marquee. Still, he didn't say anything. Vegeta had never been a man of many words, but his continued silence made her nervous. They stopped just beyond the edge, where there were no other guests, and he stood there looking at the sky.

Bulma frowned and turned her head to face him. He looked a little more dishevelled than he had during her speech, like he'd managed to get in some training. Had _that_ been why she couldn't find him?

Suddenly, Vegeta smiled. It was a rare sight because it wasn't that cocky smirk he often wore, or that hungry toothy grin of a predator seeking its prey. It was pure joy.

She looked up into the sky as he was to see what had brought it on.

A soft white flake landed on her nose.

"Snow?" Bulma reached out the hand that wasn't clasped in Vegeta's and caught another snowflake.

"Do you like it?"

Bulma frowned at him in confusion as the snow began to fall thicker and faster in swirling spirals around them.

"Trunks and I used speed," he said, so soft she had to strain to hear him over the music and the crowd behind them. "We created a wind that dropped the temperature enough for snow to form. Getting the moisture we needed was harder, but-"

Bulma cut him off, placing her fingers over his mouth. "_You_ did this?" She drew her hand away hardly daring to believe he would do such a thing. "You made it snow… for me?"

Gone was his usual mask of indifference. Vegeta looked at her with open nervousness, his eyes wide and breathing unsteady. "You said… you said you wanted a snowy Christmas."

Of all the strange gifts she'd received from Vegeta - the food left without so much as a note, the odd piece of tech from space when he'd gone on a trip, and even the occasional dead animal - this one was the most unusual.

It was also the best.

Her resolve melted and she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, the feeling so familiar it was like coming home. Vegeta stiffened in surprise, then relaxed against her. His hands came up to her face, cupping it with a tenderness he'd never shown before and he kissed her back as if he might never get another chance.

Finally, she pulled away, more out of a need for air than anything else.

His rough thumb swept across her cheek and he frowned. "You are crying." He searched her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

"More than I've ever been hurt before," she replied, admitting her feelings to him for the first time.

He flinched at that, but he didn't draw his gaze away. "It is my biggest regret."

She stared at him as white snow tumbled into his black hair and she knew he'd been just as lonely as she was. "I think I finally believe that," she said before she kissed him again.

This time the dampness on her cheeks was not from tears, but from falling snowflakes.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this angsty Christmas fic. Let me know what you thought in the comments!**

**If anyone is interested, this is set in the same world as my other Christmas one-shot, _Blue Christmas_. The callbacks to it are very subtle and it is also a very different text (more sex, less angst!) but if you haven't read that one and you enjoyed this, you might like _Blue Christmas_ too!**


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